The Cost of Redemption
by LindseyN
Summary: Blaise Zabini is in her seventh year at Hogwarts and caught in the thick of a war between the wizarding world and Voldemort. Following in the footsteps of her father, a DeathEater, she crossed the narrow line between good and evil years ago. Now, stuck


Title: The Cost of Redemption  
  
Author name: PennyDrdful  
  
Author email:   
  
Category: Angst  
  
Sub Category: Romance  
  
Keywords: Draco Malfoy Blaise Zabini  
  
Rating: R  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP  
  
Summary: Blaise Zabini is in her seventh year at Hogwarts and caught in the thick of a war between the wizarding world and Voldemort. Following in the footsteps of her father, a DeathEater, she crossed the narrow line between good and evil years ago. Now, stuck at a crossroads, she begins to wonder if redemption for someone like her is even possible ...and if she's willing to pay its price.  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Title  
Chapter One  
  
Comfort is a mystery  
  
Crawling out of my own skin  
  
Just give me what I came for,  
then I'm out the door again  
-- The Package, A Perfect Circle  
  
Sometimes, just sometimes, I hate being a Slytherin. Honestly. When you spend half of every night counting how many stone bricks form the ceiling of your bed chamber, then maybe you'll understand my pain. There are few things in this world that banish sleep more effectively then the snoring of Millicent Bulstrode.  
  
Adults tell children that earthquakes are caused by the shifting of tectonic plates beneath the earth's surface, but they're lying to you. Earthquakes are just the aftershocks of Millicent's snoring. I swear on my mother's grave. (Of course, she was cremated and now resides in an urn, but that's beside the point.)  
  
A pillow flies from my side of the room and hits Milly right on the head. Gee, I just have no idea where it came from. It lands with a dull poof and the large girl emits a mangled grumble, "..mfrzzle? huh? Blaise... quit it."  
  
Five seconds of blessed silence before the snoring starts up again. There's no way I'm getting back to sleep now. Groaning, I unwrap myself from the warm cocoon that my bed sheets formed. Of all the people I could have been roommates with, I had to get Millicent. But, to look on the bright side, at least Slytherins only have to share a dormitory with one other person. I was in Ravenclaw one time and discovered they cram four people into each room. I can barely stand close quarters with one girl, much less three. Maybe they realized that all the Slytherins would end up killing each other before the year was out. Frankly, I don't care about the 'why' of it. I'm just glad that things are the way they are. And before you say anything, no, I was not going through Padma Patil's trunk while I was in said Ravenclaw dormitory.  
  
I push the velvet green bed curtains aside and grope for my wand on the nightstand. My bare feet hit the freezing floor and I barely manage to stifle a yelp. Stone castle floors suck in the winter time.  
  
"Lumos!" Light appears at the tip of my wand, casting distorted shadows around the room. I grab a book off the nightstand and quickly tiptoe my way out of the room. Not that I'm afraid of waking up Millicent, mind you, I just don't want to touch that cold floor any more then I have to.  
  
At the bottom of the steps, I pause and peep around the corner, into the common room. It's deserted, like usual, at this time of night, and I scurry in and plop myself down on the black couch in front of the hearth. The gigantic portrait hanging on the wall is empty. Salazar is never in his portrait. Out of the seven years I've been living at Hogwarts, I can count on one hand how many times I've actually seen him. A warm and cheerful fire, the sole source of light besides my wand, is already lit and dancing around in one place. Thank Merlin for house elves. Truly marvelous creatures.  
  
I squirm around and get all nice and cozy in the sofa, before propping my book open. Might as well read until I get sleepy enough to brave Millicent's racket again. Tucking a strand of black hair behind my ear, I begin reading "Catcher in the Rye" for the third time. Sometimes... Muggles aren't so bad.  
  
There's a warm vibrating weight in my lap. One eye opens just a crack, trying to fend off the light that's threatening to burst in and ruin the comfy and sleepy center of the universe that is me. I look down and find that sometime in the middle of the night I must have grabbed a blanket, because I'm certainly covered in one now. On top of that is an abnormally large ball of purring, solid grey fluff.  
  
"Awww, good morning Kali! It's so nice when you decide to behave like a normal kitty."  
  
Kali has a habit of lying in shadowy corners until someone walks by and then leaping out and latching on to their ankles. She seems to prefer the taste of flesh over cotton, because she always goes after those not wearing pants. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one around here who actually likes her.  
  
I yawn and stretch luxuriously. That was definitely the best I've slept in quite some time. I'm relishing my relaxation when it suddenly strikes me that the common room is awfully empty. I mean, it's usually pretty busy... there's always some kids in here in the morning. My eyes fall on the old grandfather clock in the corner and that's when reality decides to get up and slap me across the face. This isn't a weekend. This is Tuesday. Everyone else is in class. I'm supposed to be in class.  
  
Shitshitshitshit, "Shit!"  
  
I hit the ground running. Kali goes flying through the air, yowling in protest. Scrambling up the stairs, three at a time, I burst into the girl's dormitory and dive for my uniform. Ok, pajamas off, skirt, blouse, vest, stockings on! Next, tie! Ok, this part around here, then under there and ARGH! Okay, forget the tie. Shoes! Shoes... shoes... where the bloody hell are my damn shoes?! Oh. There they are.  
  
Of course, the one time I'm running late, it has to be to Transfiguration! That McGonagall woman is going to eat me!  
  
Robe in one hand and satchel in the other, I bound out of the room and through the girl's hall once again. All I can think about is how pissed off McGonagall's going to be and I don't even notice when Kali runs right in front of me and whoop! I'm tumbling, head first, books flying, down the staircase, cursing Kali to the gates of hell and a life of eternal torture. I land with a hard smack on the common room floor, face flat on the ground.  
  
"Fucking cat! Just wait until I get my hands on you! You're so dead."  
  
Gingerly, I sit up into a sitting position, clutching my head. Nothing feels broken. "It just hurts like hell," I mutter to myself, groaning as I try not to focus on my pain-wracked body.  
  
Across the room someone chuckles. I stiffen and instinctively make sure that my skirt hasn't flown up. My head jerks up to see who just witnessed my oh-so graceful fall.  
  
Lounging in an armchair and grinning like an absolute prat is Draco Malfoy. Wonder of all wonders. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him. All of Slytherin will have heard of this by supper time. Great.  
  
"Hey Blaise," he drawls, his voice laced with amusement, "Would you mind doing that again? It was rather entertaining. Especially that last part where the Herbology book bounced off your head."  
  
"Sod off, Draco." I would give anything to go over there and wipe that big smirk off his face.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, such a temper. And I was going to offer to help with your wounds."  
  
Looking down I notice the stain that's slowly spreading across my stocking, turning the grey material to black. As soon as I see it, I become acutely aware of the throbbing pain in my left shin.  
  
"And just what the hell do you know about medical magic anyway?" The morning was turning very bad, very quickly.  
  
"Well I guess you'll never know now." He doesn't seem to notice the mental daggers shooting out of my eyes. "Shouldn't you be in class? I doubt McGonagall would be very happy to find out you ditched her class to play with your little kitty."  
  
"I could ask the exact same thing of you."  
  
"Tragically, I'm excused from today's classes." Oh yeah. He just looked completely devastated.  
  
Shoving my books back into my satchel, I eye him with skepticism. "And what on earth would keep the famously studious Draco Malfoy from attending class?"  
  
He ignores my tone and acts as if it's a perfectly appropriate question. "I'm sick." And then he gives a little cough that suddenly reminds me of that old frog Umbridge. Draco examines his nails, a bored expression on his pale face.  
  
I stand up, forcing myself not to wince in front of him although all my muscles protest against movement. "Then shouldn't you be seeing Madame Pomfrey?"  
  
"You know, I don't think it's all that wise for you to question your prefect Zabini... do you?"  
  
There's a shining glint in his grey eyes and I decide it definitely time to make my retreat. Probably already going to get detention from McGonagall, I sure don't need one from Draco too. "Oh, I was just leaving," I say, plastering on a sweet smile as I shoulder my satchel.  
  
Just as I reach the portrait door he stops me one more time. "By the way... baby blue knickers? Definitely not your color."  
  
My hands instinctively go to my skirt and blood rushes to my cheeks. In the corner of my eyes I can see that big smirk on his face again. Gritting my teeth, I push through the door.  
  
I've only been to see Madame Pomfrey once or twice since I started here at Hogwarts. Every time I go, I'm reminded of exactly why I didn't enjoy the experience last time. It's mainly because the overweight old bitty makes me sit on the most uncomfortable wooden stool in the world, and repeat again and again what happened. All the while my skirt is snagging on random splinters.  
  
And she wonders why I'm irritable.  
  
"Like I said the first four times. I fell down the stairs." From her pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and general aura of all-around dislike, I can tell that she still doesn't believe me.  
  
"Miss Zabini, honestly that is the most over-used line in the book. Now, I'm not going to fix that scrape until you tell me the truth, missy." What she really wants to hear is that I got in a fight with a first year Hufflepuff or some other equally deviant activity. Because Merlin knows that we Slytherins are immune to perfectly innocent accidents.  
  
I ignore her for a moment, my arms crossed, as I survey the rest of the infirmary. The beds for students with more serious injuries are empty with the exception of one. Some Gryffindor, I think his name's Longbottom, or something equally ridiculous, is holding onto the bed for dear life. His legs are kicking and flying all over the place, his entire body's wiggling and he appears entirely unable to control his movements. Someone probably hit the sod with a Tarantallegra curse or something. Ten points for them.  
  
There's a smirk on my face as my gaze shifts back to Madame Pomfrey. She's still glaring at me like some angry mother hen.  
  
Rolling my eyes, I push off the stool. "It's the truth." I walk out the door, leaving behind the precariously teetering stool and Madame Pomfrey, her mouth jerking open and closed in silent, fuming exasperation.  
  
A little nagging voice tells me that I'm going to regret being so brief with her later on, but right now I just can't make myself care. A sigh drops from my lips. Who would've thought a day that had begun so nicely, with the awakening from a sound sleep, would go to shit so quickly?  
  
Earlier, when I had finally managed to make it class, McGonagall had been less then pleased with me. But I suppose that being thirty minutes late to Transfiguration and showing up in a less then perfect state of attire gave her the opinion that I needed detention for tonight. Of course it didn't matter that I managed to turn my quill into a spider on only the second try, while everyone else was still struggling along. No, that crone just kept harping on and on about my 'disruptive behavior.' I hardly consider flicking my spider into Pansy Parkinson's hair as disruptive. If anything, her shrieks were rather amusing. How the hell was I supposed to know the girl was terrified of spiders? I mean, I've only shared a dormitory with her for the last six years.  
  
The sound of heels clicking against the stone floor from behind is suddenly audible. I glance over my shoulder and my face pulls into a scowl. Madame Pomfrey's rushing to catch up to me, her rather plump stomach swaying side to side. The last thing I want to deal with right now is being told off by yet another old hag.  
  
"Miss Zabini! If you would please slow down!" Aww... is the ickle nurse too fat to keep up?  
  
She finally catches up and gasps down a gulp of air. "You should know better then taking that tone of voice with a staff member!" Oh great, here it comes. There's a pause as she sucks down more air.  
  
"However... I'm afraid I judged you rather harshly." What? "It's just that in the past, when you've shown up in my office, it's after you've been in a fight with another student." She glares down her nose, as if to impress upon me that this is a very bad thing. "But... it is possible that you did indeed fall down some stairs." Her voice wavers a bit and it's obvious that she still has her doubts about that. But she raises her wand and with a flick of her wrist I can feel a tingly feeling on my shin. Bending over, I roll down my now stain-free stocking and the bloody gash is now nothing more then a bruise.  
  
When I look up at her she gives me another hard look and then turns and walks away without a word. Pomfrey click-clacks her way back to the infirmary and I suddenly wish that I had been in a fight.  
  
S'funny... for some reason I feel even worse then before.  
  
The Great Hall is already full by the time I walk in for supper. My head feels like it's about to burst and when I'm suddenly hit with the noise of a couple hundred kids all chattering at once, it's as if someone were driving an ice pick through my skull. Gritting my teeth I sit down on a bench at the Slytherin table. A sigh escapes as I plop down beside some first year. She and another girl across from her are giggling madly behind their hands in a way that makes me want to whack them upside the head. Every few seconds they dart glances over at some Ravenclaw boy across the hall and start giggling again.  
  
I grab my spoon and throw it at one of the girls, hitting her in the chest. "Shut up." The two of them stare at me for a second, eyes wide and mouths hanging open, before they begin scrambling madly to get up from the table and leave. Shrugging, I start shoveling food onto the plate that has appeared before me.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... picking on the ickle firsties again, Blaise?" Pansy's sitting a couple spots down, holding her fork with her usual daintiness. Wonder if she's still pissed off about those spiders.  
  
"I heard you attempted to fly this morning." She chews thoughtfully for a moment. "You do realize that you need a broom for that sort of thing? I mean, I knew you were stupid, but not delusional as well." Well that answers my question. Beside her, Millicent smirks and I resist the urge to shove my fork down her throat.  
  
"You know, Pansy dear, it'd be an awful shame if someone came in the wee hours of the night and cut off all your pretty blonde hair while you were sleeping." In the middle of sipping her soup, she sputters, spraying tiny drops at Millicent. Ha! See if you get any sleep tonight, bitch!  
  
The throbbing in my head is only growing worse with every second. I would give anything to just go lie down somewhere. But I don't think that skipping meals is going to help any. Reluctantly, I start piling mash potatoes on my golden plate. At the table across from ours I can see a Hufflepuff boy pouring gravy on his. I look back down at my own sad, gravy- less plate. Feeling slightly pouty, I look up and down my own table, scouring for the gravy bowl. It's sitting, in all of its gravy glory, beside Theodore Nott. With a heaving sigh I somehow manage to drag myself off of the bench and to my goal.  
  
Teddy looks up as I reach between him and Crabbe, "Oh hey, there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. You know what that means." Of course I know what that means.  
  
Since our fifth year, a Hogsmeade visit has meant meetings. Meetings of the Death Eater sort to be exact. We spend a few hours roaming around Hogsmeade in order to be seen by other students, and then slip off unnoticed. Hogsmeade provides the perfect cover. If we tried doing it during the regular school weeks... well, if a group of Slytherin students were to disappear for couple hours on a habitual basis then people would start asking questions, now wouldn't they?  
  
Some people at Hogwarts think everyone who's in Slytherin is automatically in league with the Dark Lord. As if our house was some sort of fan club for evil. But actually, it's only a select few of us. Myself, Crabbe, Goyle, Teddy, and Draco.  
  
All of us following in our father's footsteps. Whether we want to or not.  
  
"Of course I do," I snap at him, scowling. Pain flickers over his face before he turns back to his food, so that I can't see any more. A flood of guilt at being so abrupt with him wells up. Teddy's one of the few people I actually like around here. We grew up together, Teddy and I. Our fathers' would ditch us in the care of a nanny so that they could attend their oh-so-important business. Over the years we've become rather close ....and it's probably a good thing too. Teddy needs someone to watch out for him. The boy is a sweetheart by nature, and the people of this world have a tendency to take advantage of the innocent. I should know. I'm one of them.  
  
I sighed, "Sorry Teddy... It's just been a bit of a long day and I don't feel very well."  
  
He mumbled without even looking up, "S'ok." Damn that boy knows how to make me feel like an arsehole... I'll try to make it up to him later. I grab the bowl of gravy and head back to my seat.  
  
Draco tips his blonde head back as I pass, "Careful there Blaise... wouldn't want to have another nasty fall, now would you?" On both sides of him Crabbe and Goyle snicker, Pansy has a smug little smile her on her face.  
  
Placing the bowl onto the table, I grab my goblet and take a sip without sitting down. With a mock thoughtful expression, I point a finger at him. "That was actually quite lame. Not up to your usual standards at all." I shake my head sadly, "Would you like to try again?"  
  
His normally pale face gains some pigment and he opens his mouth to retort, but I don't hear a thing. My gaze is riveted on a girl chatting amiably with her friends across the hall. A girl who looks terribly similar to one I met in the past. My mouth drops open and all motion stops...  
  
I'm back at that old dilapidated house. That musty and creaking two-  
story that Lord Voldemort is currently holed up in. The smell of  
mothballs fills my nose and the light is so dim, I can hardly see a  
thing. Bellatrix's voice carries softly from one of the back rooms,  
but there's another noise coming from the opposite end of the house,  
where the side entrance is. My ears are straining to pick it up, to  
identify it.  
  
I can hear it clearly now... footsteps. Someone is walking around at the  
other end of the house. But there's not supposed to be anyone over  
there! Everyone should be back in the foyer... I wipe my sweaty hand  
on my jeans and tighten the grip on my wand.  
  
Realizing that my breath is coming in harsh spurts, I force myself to  
breathe more evenly. The steps are getting closer now, just down the  
hall. With my back pressed against the wall, I concentrate on them,  
ignoring my thundering heart. Taking one last deep breathe, I step out  
into the corridor. Amongst the shadows I can vaguely make out a dark  
shape.  
  
"Who are you?!"  
  
"I-I-" It's a girl's voice. It's not Bellatrix's and it's not mine,  
we're the only females here, she's not one of us! All this flashes  
though my mind in an instant and my wand is already raised.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
A green flash envelops the room, and the pounding of my heart blocks  
out the scream, my gaze fixes on the fallen form.  
  
A firm hand grasps my shoulder and I can't help but jump slightly. I'm  
suddenly flanked by Bella and the elder Crabbe and Goyle. Bella leans  
down and I can feel her breath stir my hair.  
  
"Doesn't it feel good?"  
  
The memory slips away just as quick as it came, and I'm back in the present. My vision is blurred and my hearing is muffled. I blink and realize my goblet's now lying on the stone floor, pumpkin juice splashed all over the place. The thudding of my heart begins to fade and the chatter and noises of the Great Hall begins to filter through.  
  
"-aise! Blaise!" I blink once more and I'm suddenly aware of Draco calling my name. With both hands on my shoulders, he's shaking me. My brown eyes snap up to his grey, and for a moment, just one brief moment, I can see something in them other then cold stone. But it's gone in a flash and I'm left wondering if it was just my imagination. "You need to get it together." There's a harsh edge in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago.  
  
Wordlessly, I jerk out of his grasp and I'm running out of the Great Hall. Behind me I can hear Pansy, and imagine her putting a hand on his arm, "Merlin, she's such a freak. Just leave her."  
  
My wet back squeaks as I slide down the tiled wall of the shower. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I rest my head on arms, curling up into a tight ball. Heedless of the water, so hot it's turning my skin pink, I sit motionless. I need it to be this hot. I need it to be searing. Sizzling and burning all the dirt away. The dirt and the mud and the grime. Burn through my flesh until it reaches the inside. Wash away all of the cobwebs and dust in a sweeping torrent. Drown the past.  
  
Under the scorching hot water, images from that horrific moment replay again and again behind my closed eyelids. The brilliant emerald light that had enveloped the hallway. The sheer terror now forever frozen on the girl's features.  
  
Closer inspection had shown that she was young, just around ten. Merlin only knows why she had come into the house. Voldemort had been pleased with my actions. "It's only the first in a long career," he said with a smile.  
  
Gut-wrenching sobs and tears well up inside, fighting to escape. But they don't come, boiling just below the surface instead. I'm denied even this small measure of release. 


End file.
